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Averill Hodson
is a completed tribute that belongs to XxGrande-Venti91. Please do not use or submit her without permission from said owner. Name: Gender: Female District: 6 Age: 17 Weapon: Averill prefers the use of darts or throwing knives—she does not want to have to confront her victims up close—but if the situation calls for it, she is also somewhat skilled with an axe. Because throwing knives and darts (with the exception of poisonous ones) often hinder the victim rather than kill them, she often uses her victims' weak spots as opportunities to steal food or other useful items from them. Appearance: Averill has a medium build, giving her average strength and quite a bit of agility. Her hair is a dark auburn colour, similar to that of a burnt chestnut, and it comes down past her shoulders but it is not long enough so that she is slowed down by it. Her eyes are a complex, marble green colour with a cold hue of blue mixed into them as well as a hard shade of grey. Her eyelashes are normal, nothing extraordinary about them. Her skin is slightly pale compared to that of her family, but it is a warm pale rather than a sickly one, and it is often unnoticed by others. Her nose is a little long, but it is not big or pointy and it is surely not the first thing to notice about her face. She has a few, small and faded freckles on the outside of her arms, but they are scattered and scarce. Her veins do not bulge, but they are noticeable from colour alone and can be traced like pale blue tree roots. Her legs are long and limber but her medium build does not make them weak. They allow her to run great distances without getting weak at the knees—however, her lungs do not give for very much endurance or stamina. She is not in the least bit bony except for on her fingers and on her feet where her skin is thinner and the edges of her bones protrude ever so lightly. Strengths/skills: Because of Averill's build she has considerable agility and average muscular strength. She has long legs which aid her in running fast and far if her survival instinct kicks in. Speaking of survival instinct, Averill's is quite sharp and thus she can notice and identify danger faster than many other people can. Her on-the-spot instincts of a similar kind are selfish, but for her sake, and if only one tribute will win then selfishness isn't quite the problem in the arena. If her life depends on it, like other people in times of danger, she can do things she never thought she could do thanks to adrenaline. Of course, she can't do anything unrealistic or impossible so this wouldn't be an advantage if she was about to get her head chopped off. Weakness(es): Due to Averill's unstable lung capacity, she can only run very far if her adrenaline instinct is kicked in—otherwise, her weak stamina and endurance would cause her to stop before even reaching half a mile. Also, having grown up in District Six and being too traumitized by an event in her life to learn this, she cannot swim. She is still sensitive to gore, with the exception of the all-too-common blood and bone, but her reaction is to avoid such things rather than to faint or scream. She is also quite avoidant of others, which makes her not get too trusting/attached but also makes finding an alliance a weak spot of hers. Lastly, she has a hoarse voice so she often is unable to speak loudly or to speak at all. Of course, she is still able to speak regularly when the time comes, but screaming or shouting for help would be quite taxing on her vocal cords. Personality: Averill has an avoidant, fleeting personality that hides a softer, curious side of hers. She is very untrusting and is often nervous in the mere presence of strangers. She is the type of person who takes weeks to muster up the courage to put her trust in someone. She does not often take the time to do that. Instead, she prefers soltitude, and often spends her time walking by the outskirts of District Six, in the thin woods, by the railroad tracks. She was raised in a poorer house so she is not very picky about her food nor her shelter. She is not the type of person who judges by appearance, nor is she the kind of person whom antagonizes better-looking people. She is extremely selfish with the exception of the one person who took her in, but she is also thoughtful and a deep thinker in general. When she does speak to someone, she prefers to not make eye contact, and she does not like the thought of prying eyes amongst her soul. She is quiet and reserved as well, but more fleeting than shy, and she can make bold moves in spite of herself. Backstory/History: The five years leading up to Averill's reaping, from her point of view: ---- Entry One|Five Years Before The Reaping Today my parents are arguing yet again about the money, the Games, the Districts, and how unfairly the government in the Capitol treats us. I overhear my father talking softly of a war. Days of sorrow, days of demise. My mother tries to comfort me by telling me how lucky I am that I was not born in a time of killing. I have read in the books and seen in the news, though, enough to know that just because the children of the districts are the victims, it is still a time of killing. My father and mother discuss how unsafe my father's job is; we live in District Six, which does not force us to do dangerous work underground like District Twelve, but my father must repair electric railway tracks for the Capitol's trains. It is very dangerous, because he does not often know if the electric tracks are on at a high voltage, and my mother knows nothing good can come of that. My brother—who is six years older than me—feels guilty for my family's poverty. He has only one year of the reaping left to go but he had not gotten a job to feed the family yet. This year is my first year of the reaping, so my name is in only once. At least, for now. Entry Two|Four Years Before The Reaping I am very glad I did not get reaped last year. I heard the Games were a living nightmare, though I can't bring myself to empathize with the victor, a killer. I signed up for tesserae twice last year. Twice. Now my name is in the glass bowl more than once, more than twice, and I am terrified. At least my brother never had to go into the Games. He has been acting awfully weird lately, like a father we never had, a father with bloodshot eyes and a newspaper in his hands more often than anything. He is no longer my brother, but a deprived man. No, no, I can't say that. Of course he is my brother, he is the silent pair of eyes that watch me during my tiny acts of defiance against the Capitol. Mocking their accents with me at the dinner table to drown out the serious conversation of parents. Tossing Capitol propaganda flyers into the stream behind the railroad tracks. He is still my brother, he is just growing old with worry. Entry Three|Three Years Before The Reaping My father stormed home in an outrage today. He slammed his bedroom door behind him and did not come out until dinner when my mother spoke in a hushed, worried voice. My father had lost his job. I pretend not to see my brother fighting off tears at the dinner table as my mother's tone grows more and more desperate. At last my brother shows us a newspaper clipping that he has been pondering over for the past year. My eyes widen I realize what my brother is going to do. He is going to become a peacekeeper, and he is going to send us a large portion of his pay from the capitol. I can't help myself, I break down in sobs, begging, pleading him not to do this. But there is no other way. Tomorrow my parents are going to send him off in farewell on the train my father once worked on, in hopes that my brother will come back as the same person he is now. Entry Four|Two Years Before The Reaping We are cold. We are starving. The house has not been paid off in months. We are going to be evicted in a month. He lied. He never sent us money, not in the slightest portion. I wrote him pleading letters, but by the cold of winter I knew they were all in vain. My parents have it worse off than I do—my mother's face is tighter, more skeletal, and my father is a sickly pale. I miss my parents, I miss my brother. I miss having food to eat and blankets to sleep under. I miss—— The middle portion of this entry is illegible, with scratched and broken nonsense filling the edge of this page and onto the next, until another portion, written one week later, continues. He killed them. My parents...he...shot them. He tortured my father after shooting my mother in the skull. He made him watch as he beat what was left of her into a rotten, bleeding pulp. I can't go back now. He's a madman...my brother...what did the capitol do to him? He didn't shoot me, he didn't acknowledge me. Only a rough blow to my side with the handle of the whip. I can't call for help. My voice is weak, something must have been done to my vocal cords by the impact. I heard they found my brother's body in the stream beside the railroad tracks. That is all my brother is, another piece of Capitol propaganda. They said they don't know whether he was killed or whether he jumped, but his skull was found cracked by the rocks of the stream. I have nothing left now. I am no more than a shriveled body. Cold. Alone. If I'm lucky, they'll burn my body and have a warmed, crisp funeral. I have nothing left now. Entry Five|One Year Before The Reaping I wasn't put in an orphanage. I was lucky enough to be taken in by a tired, tense young mother in the central of the district. I can help her out to earn enough food to live, which, I guess is better than nothing. Her husband, like my father, does not have a job, but he refused to stay with her. She tells me how lucky she is to have a helper like I am, but I can only think about the tesserae. I have signed up for tesserae more times than both hands can count, and for whom? I just hope someone has taken far more. I can't go now. I have something left, for once. Someone to trust, and like a paperweight, that is what ties me down. ---- Interview Angle: Averill plans to be sharp and yet not noticeable enough to be an immediate target. She is not focusing on pleasing the audience; instead, she wants to show that she is serious and down-to-earth rather than superficial. Bloodbath Strategy: Averill plans to simply run from the bloodbath. She can run fast and far enough to get about a half mile from the bloodbath before her stamina decreases. She focuses on finding somewhere to hide until the worst of it is over, rather than hunting for food or water immediately. She knows that she won't die after merely hours of hunger or thirst, so she prioritizes shelter, and plans to hunt during the night time. '''Games Strategy: '''She plans on hunting during the night, and to find a steady water source. Her strategy is to hoard and keep to herself, and to stay vigilant at all times regardless of her energy. She doesn't want to rest until very few tributes are left. To avoid confrontation she plans on simply outliving the other tributes by survival skills rather than combat. '''Token: '''A raven's feather hairclip that she found beside the railroad tracks. '''Height: '''5'9 (175.26 cm) '''Fears: '''She is afraid of betrayal; she is also extremely uncomfortable about swimming ever since her brother's body was found in the stream. '''Alliance: '''Loner (Unless Stated Otherwise) Category:17 year olds Category:District 6 Category:Tributes Category:Characters Category:XxGrande-Venti91's Tributes Category:Females